Eternal Choices
by Llamaunicorn
Summary: Katniss and Peeta did not win the 74th Hunger Games, but Clove did instead. So in which, there was no rebellion and the games continued. Chrissyna Hadley and her brother, Brim Hadley, have both been reaped to take part in the 77th Hunger Games. Both of them must go through life or death situations against ruthless Careers in the arena. They must decided which of them will go home.
1. Chapter 1

Wiping my sweating hands off on my hand-me-down faded skirt was no use since it kept building back up again. Sitting in the living room/dining room/kitchen of our small rickety house that could possibly collapse at any moment now, I twiddle my thumbs, soaking up the time. We'd be leaving for the reaping in less than ten minutes. Less than ten minutes of serenity in my home if I was doomed to never see its chipped paint and rotting wooden floors again. My home and I have a love-hate relationship.

"You look nice,"Lilian says, walking down the stairs in her also hand-me-down reaping clothes: a green button up shirt with elbow length sleeves, a ruffled purple skirt, and worn down high heels, all from my mother. Her auburn hair was pulled into a severely tight ponytail, making her eyebrows look more arched than they really are. "Thank you. You too,"I say back, trying to hide the fear in my voice. She half smiles then walks to the cupboard in search of food. We probably have none. Lilian being seventeen and having been eligible for the reaping for five years, she wasn't as scared as I was, this being my third year. We only waited on Brim, my twin brother who has the worst humor about everything and always sneaks small pets into the house without my mother knowing. Lilian glanced over at me and frowned. "You have absolutely zero reasons to be scared. Out of all the girls in this God forsaken district, you and I will not be chosen, alright?" She gave me a reassuring nod followed by a smile. How can she be so cool about this entire system? The Capitol abuses its power by having a drawing-or reaping-then sending innocent kids between the ages twelve and eighteen into a specially designed arena to kill each other. It gets better, though. They put it on live television for everyone to see! Isn't that neat?

Brim bounds down the stairs almost tripping more than once, tucking in his grey button up shirt into his pants messily. "We're gonna be late beause of you,"Lilian says without even looking up from her quick cup of used teabag tea. He ignores her and starts trying to pat his feather-like blonde hair down. His black slacks are way too big for him, belonging to my father, so they have to stay rolled up three times. Then my mother walks in, an uncovincing smile on her face. "My goodness. You three look amazing! Too amazing for a reaping,"she adds blandly. "Gerimy, come look at the children!" My father could never bear to look at us in our reaping outifts or even bear to watch the reaping itself ever since his brother was reaped at fifteen. I think you can guess what happened to Uncle Biv. Of course, he never listened to my mother when she tells him to look at us. It makes me wonder why he would even have children if he knew we'd have to go through this. "We need to go,"Lilian says after taking one last sip of her cold tea.

Each of us give our mother a tight hug, she pats us on the back for good luck and promises to give a hug to our father for us. Brim holds the door open for my sister and I. It feels like he's beckoning us through a door to certain doom, but Lilian is right; out of all the girls here in District 12, what chances do I have of being reaped? Taking tessera for oil and grain for my mother to cook with in trade for my name to be put in extra times made me have eight slips of paper with my name written on them tossed into the large reaping bowl. I have eight out of over a thousand chances of being reaped, Brim's being the same as mine, and Lilian's being fifteen slips of paper for taking tessera for two years for each of my family members until Brim and I were old enough to do it too. I had to fight Brim on it, saying that he was more useful alive than dead to the family and I wouldn't be able to contribute as much and taking tessera would be my sharing the load. He didn't talk to me for days after that.

The sky is clouded over again today with the pale fluffy things and making it chilly without sunshine. I pull my black knit sweater tighter around myself and lower my head. Lilian walks without a recognizable hint of being afraid, but we all are. Brim walks closer to me, his head low. I can definitely tell he's as scared as I am even with the smallest chances of being reaped. The ground is dusty and gravelly; my short heels are not suitable for walking over boulders in the name of looking nice for a bloody holiday. The entire thing still burns me up inside. Every eligible teenager is supposed to meet in the town square at 2 o'clock and already the roped in areas are filling up with anxious children all dressed in similar reaping clothes as opposed to Lilian who sticks out like a spring flower amongst dead grass.

We check in by letting the man or woman sitting behind metal tables prick our fingers and scan our blood— weird, right? I now stand in the roped in corral of fifteen year old possible tribute girls, listening to the whispers about who they think will be reaped or who would stand the smallest chance in the arena. My name didn't come up in the tidbits of conversations that my ears picked up. Good. Then, taking the stage, is the District 12 escort, Effie Trinket;-an unbearable Capitol woman whom nobody has ever seen her real face underneath the clown makeup, but today, she's sporting an ocean blue wig decorated with golden streamers hanging loosely around it, and a blindingly white suit that showed off her surgically created curves-Mayor Undersea, Madge Undersea's father and the mayor of District 12; the drunken mentor, Haymitch Abernathy; and several Peacekeepers keeping them guarded from what? I don't know.

Mayor Undersea begins his speech about the great history of our beautiful country of Panem,per the norm,and about how numerous natural disasters destroyed most of the earth, only leaving this one run down country by the name of North America. Everything was fine for a while until the districts rose up against the Capitol resulting in this terrible television show and the reason I'm in this roped in area now. It resulted in The Hunger Games. It's a reminder of the Dark Days and how we're under the thumb of the Capitol. It's basically power control freaks running everything. To make it even worse and yet more humiliating than dying a rather terrible and unneccesary death on live television, we have to celebrate it like we would if we could afford Christmas celebrations. If you do so happen to survive the games and come back home, you get money, food, a new house in the Victor's Village, but all while your friends sit idly by licking their lips and staring in awe. The mayor finishes his rehearsed and vain vocalization to us below the stage, he grants the mic to the escort.

Her Capitol accent fills everyone's ears obnoxiously. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" I look through the crowd of girls biting their lips or pulling on their hair nervously and finally fix my eyes on Lilian's straight face only showing cracks of anger. Or fear. What if she's reaped? I didn't think about that until just now! What will I do if my only sister is reaped and sent into the merciless games against bloodthirsty Careers? Nothing— I can't do anything against the Capitol. Fearfully, I turn my attention back to a beaming and bubbly Effie. "Ladies first!" she says almost tauntingly. She trots to the enormous glass bowl filled with mine and my sister's names along with several others, but still, our names are in there. Effie always tries to make things suspensful by taking her precious time choosing the names, but in reality, it gets boring. Nobody dares to breathe. Not even me. She yanks a slip of sealed paper out of the bowl, smiling at it as if it were a diamond ring, then trotting back over to the mic and unfolding it. Please, oh please don't be me or Lilian! Please! The escort takes a breath after reading the name in her head, then she says it aloud for everyone watching the reaping through live television and everyone actually participating.

"Chrissyna Hadley."

It's not Lilian, not my friend Berain, not anyone else I can think of except one girl: me. The world starts spinning all around me as soon as the name leaves her lips. No. I heard her wrong, I must have. Out of all those slips and only eight belonging to me, my name was drawn. Put it back and redo it! "Dearie? Don't be shy, now, come on up and let everyone see you!" Effie squeaks. I feel a hand on my shoulder and someone's lips almost pressed to my ear. "You gotta go up there. Go!" I don't even turn to look at the girl who said it before my feet begin to my involuntarily toward the steps of the stage. Oh, God! As much as I wanted someone to volunteer for me, I didn't want Lilian to; I'd rather die than let her go in my place. I step out into the clearing that separated the boys and the girls, feeling all eyes on me. My loose, blonde hair swayed in the breeze a bit. "There she is!" the woman onstage says excitedly, clasping her hands together. Whatever I last ate was about to make an appearance all over her shiny pink gogo boots. Next thing I know, her manicured hands are gripping my shoulders and making me move faster across the stage and I'm facing the crowd of relieved girls and anxious boys with a green face. "Oh, look folks, she's crying tears of pure joy!" I put my hand to my cheek and sure enough, it's wet.

"Now then, moving on to the boy tribute! Can't get too caught up in beautiful emotions on this glorious reaping day!" She skitters over to the boys' reaping bowl. Trying to make the reaping dramatic, she digs her hand around in the sea of paper slips then pulls one out slowly. Whoever's name is on that slip of paper is who I'll be trying to kill in a matter of days unless they kill me first. There's no way I'd go down without a fight, though. I scan the crowd for Lilian's face and only see the top of her bent head. She must feel ashamed for not taking my place but I'm almost happy it's me and not her. The word happy was mentioned way too soon because it was ripped away painfully like someone punching my stomach and knocking the wind out of me. The name on the slip of paper was impossible just like mine.

"Brim Hadley."


	2. Chapter 2

In that moment, I completely stop trying to hold onto my sanity and trying to recover from me being reaped, but my brother being reaped too? This is not fair. "No! Someone, please! Volunteer for my brother!" I yell at the boys who had all let out a sigh of relief when their name wasn't called. Nobody says a word besides the unfazed Effie Trinket. "Oh! Your brother is he? These games are sure to be most interesting indeed with two siblings partcipating!" She giggles to herself joyfully like she couldn't hear me start to sniffle as Brim steps into the clearing, struggling to not show his shock and doomed attitude in front of the cameras. Something I can't do at the moment. I'm try to keep my eyes dry and my nose non-pink.

He steps onto the stage, his jaw set and his eyes avoiding my teary blue ones, then stands still and faces the crowd. Only the escort separates us with a wall of hair and giddiness. "Give them a round of applause for their courage and their sacrifice." That's the same thing the ugly President Snow always says. Nobody claps. Nobody does anything except stare with pity. Lilian's eyes meet mine and I can practically feel her sorriness pierce through me like a spear. A bad timed joke. Yeah. Brim would say something like that since he has the driest and worst timed humor on this planet. I need to appreciate it all while I can.

Mayor Undersea reads the Treaty of Treason, but the words go straight through my head, drowned out by the infinite thoughts rushing through my mind and bouncing around just to repeat themselves. _Of all boys, it had to be him. It could have been Erain. No, it had to be me and him. _I play out certain scenarios of other boys being reaped based on how well I knew them and how they'd respond to being reaped with me. Erain, a skinny yet muscular boy who lives on the nicer part of District 12 around the bakery and nice shops for richer people, he has black hair that flipped out and plain green eyes. We rarely ever spoke to each other besides when I came over to his house to visit my friend who was also his sister and school when he needed me to hand him something that I was sitting close to like a book or pencil. School was really useless for me since they only taught about coal this and coal that and sometimes we would get into discussions about the Dark Days and how bad it was. If Erain was reaped, he'd be scared out of his pretty wits and would be looking at his friends to see if they'd loyally volunteer, which I know they wouldn't, then he would only speak to me on rarest occasions just like usual.

"Dear, it's time to shake hands now," Mayor Undersea says, waving his hand in front of my face. I snap out of my reverie and return back to reality where I still stand on the stone stage next to my escort and brother with a thousand eyes on me. I turn to Brim nervously. His blue eyes stare at me vacantly. I look down at his waiting hand that once held frogs, baby raccoons, and other animals I most likely never found out about, then we shook hands like near strangers. It felt numb.

Effie's voice made me jump. "Ladies and gentlemen, our newest tributes from District 12: Chrissyna and Brim Hadley!" She claps to herself excitedly then does her job by escorting us into the Justice Building as the anthem of Panem begins the blare out through the speakers. I steal a side glance at our mentor. He was passed out cold in his chair; his longish and unwashed hair hung in his face and his mouth wide open. This is who will be giving us advice on how to survive these horrible next few weeks. Then the heavy doors shut behind us, blocking out the anthem almost entirely. Both of us should be out there standing in the crowd, feeling relieved, then shuffling back home dreading the next reaping, then seeing our father's face light up when he realizes that his children will survive another year certainly. That isn't the case sadly.

We're led to two rooms right next to each other, not daring to look at one another in case we break into tears unwillingly. The Peacekeeper shuts the door and that is exactly what I do; I grab one of the plush pillows off of the velvet couch and slump into a chair made with the same stuff and bury my face into the pillow. The tears keep coming like a waterfall made of salty water. I kick off my heels and hug my legs tightly. _Why us? What did we ever do to the Capitol all those years ago? Nothing! _If I could promise the Capitol that I'd never ever rebel against them, do you think they'd let me off the hook? For the sake of a television show, they would absolutely not. I look up sniffling and stifling more sobs then notice how rich and fancy this room is. The couch and chairs are made of _velvet_! I'm wiping my snot and tears off on a velvet pillow without a second thought. I stand up and begin the pace the room to keep calm. The carpet is thick under my bare feet. Then I realize: this is the room they take the tributes to say goodbye.

As if on cue, the door burst open and in walks Lilian. Her face doesn't even look like hers since it's puffy, tear streaked, and tight with sadness. To my surprise, she closes the door behind her. I expected my parents to come and see me, less likely my father but my mother would surely come see her second daughter one last time. "I..." Lilian begins, but trails off leaning against the door in her reaping clothes. She's always been a lot prettier than me and most girls in this district with her gorgeous brown eyes like my father's, curly auburn hair, her nose dotted with tiny freckles and besides those, she has clear pale skin. Unlike me with my acne covered face, long and unmanageable blonde hair, dull blue eyes, and dimpled chin. I look more like my mother while she looks like my father.

"I'm so sorry, Chrissyna. Giving you hope that you wouldn't get reaped, let alone you and Brim both, was so stupid of me." Her eyes fill with tears and she walks forward. She pulls me into a hug and we stay like that for maybe a minute or so then she pulls away. "Listen to me,"she says sternly, lifting my chin with her hand,"you better not just give up on winning the games if it means Brim gets to live. You both fight until the end and you fight strongly. If you just give up and he dies, that would mean that I lose both of you and that is not going to happen. Do you understand?" I manage a weak nod then speak, my voice croaky,"I don't think I'm coming back home, Lil." Lilian sobs on my shoulder as if _she _was the one going away to a foreign place and never to return. She doesn't bring up her lack in volunteering so neither do I. Would I have actually volunteered for her, though? As selfish as it sounds, I probably wouldn't be brave enough to throw my life away so quickly. My sister kisses my forehead and whispers,"I love you, little sis. You're going to win for me, for mom, and for dad. If you don't then make sure Brim comes home." A male Peacekeeper walks in to take her away. We hug each other one last time and I yell to her as she's being pushed out the door,"I'll take care of Brim the best I can! I love you!" Then the door slams shut.

I stand in the same place on the carpet. My knees feel weak and my whole body numb at the same time. I fall backward into the same velvet chair emotionless and unable to even breathe. _You better not just give up on winning the games if it means Brim gets to live. _Lilian's words play through my head like a broken record that will forever be embedded in my memory. She wants one of us to come home just so she can have at least one of her siblings as opposed to losing both of them in uncalled for deaths in the games. Having one of us will be like having the other since we look alike, me only having more feminine lips and longer hair. If I don't come home, my brother will.

Then the door opens not even forty seconds after Lilian left. Another surprise is that the visitor isn't my parents like I was expecting. Berain Fillidort. Her jawline length black hair is a mess like someone was running their fingers through it repetitively. Her green eyes study my face or she was memorizing it to keep as a memory when I was gone. We've been friends since first grade when on a field trip to the coal mine; she was scared of the darkness-as was I-so she and I held hands from the time we stepped into the elevator until we ran back outside after the trip was over. Her hair was always in a ballerina bun back then. We stuck together ever since— we'd play together, go to each other's houses, talk about boys that we thought were cute. The gossip faded out about three years ago since we both became vulnerable to the reaping.

Berain opens her arms. I run to her without hesitation and we hug like best friends should when the other was going to fight for her life in an arena like a puppet. "You're gonna be okay without-" I begin, my voice muffled by her shoulder. She pulls away, her hands on my shoulders, making me stand still. "Don't you dare talk like that. Don't you _dare, _Chris. You're getting your butt back here after your done obliterating eveyone else." Then she sucks in a breath, her face full of regret. "No. I'm sorry. I know having your brother in there with you won't be easy, but I need _you _to come home. Here." She pulls something out of her spring dress pocket and holds it between us. One of her hands is still on my shoulder. The object is a shimmering pendant- a purple stone cut perfectly in the shape of an oval surrounded by lacy patterns all connected to a thick silver chain. "I was gonna wear it if I ever was reaped, but you're so much more important. It was my great grandmother's passed down to me." She lets the chain gather up in the palm of my hand then drops the charm. "Thank you," I say gratefully.

We hug again then she whispers as if someone could hear us. "Erain is waiting outside to see you." The boy was her brother, you can see it in her name. The door opens earlier than it did when the Peacekeeper came to get my sister. "Take care of Lilian for me," I say hastily. She nods. "See you soon."

The last things I ever say to my sister and best friend echo around in my mind. Erain opens the door, allowing me a glance at the back of Berain's dark hair as she is escorted out of the building. He closes the door behind him sheepishly and cuts off my view. As much as I like him like my own brother, I really only want to see my parents. What if they don't want to see me,though? No. That's ridiculous. Of course they'd want to see me! "You alright?" he asks. What kind of a question is that?! I've just been reaped and he's gonna ask me if I'm alright? Yeah, man, I'm fine and happy and perfectly accepting of the situation that I'm gonna die no matter what Lilian or Berain says. "Not really,"is all I say instead of the rude things going on inside my head. He shrugs his shoulders and sits down on the velvet sofa domestically and pats the spot beside him. To be honest, it still makes me feel better that he'd care enough to visit his little sister's best friend. I sit down and tuck my feet under myself.

"I don't got long so I'll make this quick." His face softens. "Deep inside your girly soul, I know you're a fighter, Chrissyna. You probably don't think there's much of a chance of someone from this district coming back home, but I know _you _will make it somehow. You'll survive against everything and you'll come back to Berain, to your family, to me, and to all my stupid friends even. If you died, we'd all be crushed, okay?" I nod, taken aback by all that he says. This is the most I've ever heard him say at once to me. He takes my hand, not romantically, but in a friendly way. "You promise to wear that necklace my sister gave you, you promise to make your way back here to us, you especially have to promise that you won't forget about me in the arena." His eyes twinkle with hope. My throat almost closes up when I speak. "I promise." Then, just as he said, the Peacekeeper comes for him. Within the last seconds, he leans over and gives me a peck on the cheek and a squeeze on my shoulder. That's enough motivation to win these games.

As soon as Erain leaves the room, Effie fetches Brim and I. A pang of disappointment hits me; my parents didn't even come to say goodbye to me. I wonder if they said goodbye to Brim. They must have. Plenty of cameras swarm us as we cut through the crowd of spectating children, adults, and paparazzi. The flashes are blinding. My face is probably tear streaked and full of emotion which is the stuff everyone at the Capitol eats right up. If a tribute is sad, it means they have someone to leave behind and that means they'll have extra motivation in the games to come back home. Brim,Effie, and I pile into a black car. Once in the car and moving, Effie turns on her chatter switch. "Now, children, we'll be boarding the train next. Don't stop for the cameras or for anything. Just follow me onto the train and we'll be Capitol bound! Isn't this exciting?" Neither my brother or I answer. I sneak a glance past Effie at him; he's looking out the window at the passing by flood of people and cameramen chasing us. _I'm so sorry, Brim, so sorry. _He, of course, can't hear my thoughts. The car jerks to a stop in front of the train station where yet more paparazzi wait for us and their cameras alreading flashing us with white light. Not too long after getting through the crowd, we board the train. We're going to the Capitol.


	3. Chapter 3

Once on the train, barely after Effie's feet step inside, the door slides shut and the train begins to move, taking my breath away. So far today I've ridden in two foreign forms of transportation other than on foot. Us people in District 12 and every other district are forbidden to leave our home district unless emergency or official business like the Peacekeepers being distributed to their assigned district from District 2, which is the main supplier of Peacekeepers. I hear the almost inaudible hum of the train racing along the tracks at over 200 miles an hour, according to Effie for the seventh time again since we've boarded. We're led to each of our own rooms where we'll be staying on the day long ride to the Capitol. Due to what I've already seen while walking around on the train, I've easily decided that everything from the blue carpets to the eggshell white paint on the walls is fancier and richer-looking than anything back home. It's all very beautiful, I have to admit. Look at me, already falling for the beautiful products of the Capitol, the very place I've grown to despise yet admiring the paint on the walls or how clean and fresh the tribute train/death train smells.

I'll need to remember to keep up the act that I can't stand anything that comes from that place of mutant freaks who find young deaths entertaining. Frankly, I'm way too tired to sit and think about how the operation works like it does. Brim and I still haven't said a word to each other and his face always looks angry every time I see him. What's up with him? Being reaped should make someone sad not angry. I'm both, actually; angry at the Capitol and at Effie for going right along with this and sad at the fact of Brim and I possibly not seeing our family ever again. Is he upset at something a visitor said to him? Did my mother and father visit him and tell him to let me win or to come home no matter what? My brother only gets his angry look when he's conflicted or confused, but never when he's actually mad at someone. Our emotions are totally different even if we are twins.

I search through the drawers stuffed with fine clothes that all smell like lavender or roses and end up settling on a purple silk shirt and white knee-length shorts that aren't stained or ripped and walk around barefooted. My sister's old heels kill my feet. I walk into the technology packed bathroom and brush the knots our of my hair until it's nice and soft. A shower can wait until tonight before I go to bed. Since it's roughly 4:30 so that gives me some time to explore the rest of the train until Effie says it's time for supper. I pull my hair into a bun like my mother has shown me how then step out of my room and into the hallway. Then the escort in all her festiveness rounds the corner trotting in her heels.

"Oh! Chrissyna dear, I just wanted to inform you that we are sharing the train with the District 11, 10, and 9 tributes as well. Just in case you happen to bump into each other, I don't want any fights breaking out just yet! Supper will be in an hour so just meet us in the main dining car." She waves a finger in the air for a reason unknown. I thought we shared the train with all other tributes already. Guess not. She walks off smiling just the same as before. I venture around the train cars which have a table of food in almost every room so I pick up a cookie or something small and let me tell you how rich the food tastes. It's like eating a cookie of gold except it tastes better with melting chocolate and raspberry filling on the inside and a crispy sugar dough coating. To be honest I probably ate around five of them to fill in for my missed breakfast and lunch.

Somehow, I end up on District 9's part of the train. Their interior is almost the same, but with a tint of gray in the paint and floors. I turn around to walk back to meet my entourage in time to eat. I walk and study the pendant Berain had given me earlier and realize it's prettier than I thought; the purple stone is flecked with pink glitter or sparkles on the inside of it. It is possible the stone was made like that. I admire the shiny lace patterns that surround the stone like curving vines. Then I walk right into someone. _Oof! _The pendant slips from my hands and falls on the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

"I'm so sorry!" I apologize frantically, looking up at whoever I hit.

The man's jaw-length blonde hair hangs in tangles around his unshaven face. He reeks of alcohol. Haymitch Abernathy.

He grins down at me sarcastically. "You might wanna think twice about bumping into people like _that _in the arena. You'll get a,uh..." he loses his train of thought as he focuses intently on a hangnail.

I raise my eyebrows. "I'll get a what?" He snaps back out of his reverie and looks at me with half shut eyes that could possibly be looking in opposite directions. He isn't carrying a drink in his hands, but a metal flask bulges from his stained breast pocket. No doubt full of scotch or whiskey. My dad used to drink the stuff every night until he'd pass out drunk then the next day barely able to do his coal mining, the hangover was so bad. He never hit us or did anything stupid besides drink away the pain of his brother dying and his parents dying years later from some kind of lung disease caused from working in the mines so long. Lots of people die from that. Starving is another cause and so is freezing to death. Also, going outside the district's fenced in area is punishable by death in the town square in front of everyone. You'd get a bullet in your head.

"A,uh, knife in your gut. Right there!" He tries to poke my stomach, but misses and his finger pokes my arm instead. It hurt sort of, but all I do is stand there occasionally bumping against the wall when the train rocked.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to bump into the other tributes, sir,"I say. I bend over and pick up the pendant. Thank goodness it isn't damaged, but then again, what could falling on soft thick carpet do to this thing that's survived the war and four generations?

Haymitch shrugs. He wears an untucked button up shirt, white slacks covered in stains I'd rather not know the sources of, and no shoes like me except I don't have a forest of hair growing from my toes and inch long, yellow toenails. He runs a hand through his hair, letting it fall in greasy strands and making it look nastier than before.

"What are you doing on this part of the train, Kissyra?"

"It's Chrissyna and I just got lost, I guess,"I say, examining the pendant closely without looking up at him. He grunts then tries to turn around to walk away, but stumbles and falls on his face. Great. I've got a drunk mentor, a muted brother, and unconcerned escort. A few maintenance men rush around the corner at the sound of Haymitch hitting the floor. "He's drunk,"I say, rolling my eyes.

"We know,"is all they say. It's pretty bad that even they know about his had drinking habits and they're just maintenance men here to fix the train if something breaks. They tell me they'll carry him back to his room. I take their word for it and set off back toward my district's side of the train. Plenty of time to think.

What will I say to Brim when I get the chance to talk to him alone? More importantly, if one of us do make it out of that arena, which one of us will it be? Okay. It will be Brim. No matter what, I'm not leaving that place without my brother unless it's in the hovercraft that comes to pick up the dead bodies. As sad as it sounds, it's the truth. I look back down at the pendant as I walk, hoping to not walk into anyone again. What's the Capitol gonna be like? I bet it's beautiful even if it is the place we're being sent to get prettied up for our deaths. I've seen pictures, but to see it in person will be another thing entirely. The train rocks even more, making me hit the wall and almost losing my balance.

I get back to the main dining car after evading a hulking boy with a farmer's tan in the District 11 part of the train. I don't want to talk to any tributes besides my brother right now. Both Brim and Effie give me looks when I arrive, expecting an explanation of some sort but I give them nothing. I slump down into my chair and start eating the first course of supper; a reddish soup with loads of vegetables and meat mixed in, a bread basket overflowing with different types of loaves, rolls, and biscuits, and a sweet kind of tea with actual ice in the clear glasses. It's so good.

"You do not have to eat everything, children. There will be plenty more to come and I assure you that each course will be better than the last," Effie Trinket reminds us numerous times, but we keep eating until our bowls are half emptied. I pluck a warm roll from the basket and tear off bits and toss them in my mouth. She purses her lips, but says nothing. The next course comes; a dish of grilled chicken set on a bed of rice all smothered in orange tangy sauce. I ask for a refill when my glass is empty. I start to get full after finishing the second course completely, two rolls and two glasses of tea included. Brim steals glances at me, as do I at him. Before the third course comes, Effie stands up and announces to us that she's going to check on Haymitch to see if he's hungry. That just leaves Brim and I alone in the dining car. I set my fork down and pretend to be getting food out of my teeth.

I look up at him. "We have to talk about this."

He sighs and leans back in his chair as if he expected this. "About what?"

I give him a cross look and fold my arms over one another and lean on them on the table. "Don't try and pull that crap with me, Brim. You know what, you idiot."

My brother gives me a disgusted look. Why is he making me beat around the bush on this? Sure, he could do it if I asked about one of his pets, but now he has no choice but to talk to me.

"Not accepting it is pretty much the only think I can do," he replies. I try and read his face for any emotion; sorrow is all I see. "It may be easy for you since you probably haven't grasped the gravity of the situation, but-"

"Wait. You think I don't understand this mess we're in? I understand perfectly!" My voice becomes high pitched and squeaky when I'm lying or frustrated. There is no in between unless it's sighting a mouse. He shakes his head. I can tell he took a shower since his blonde, almost bleach blonde, hair looks damp and clean. His face is completely clean of dirt. He barely even looks like himself.

"Chris, I don't think you do," he says, his tone rising just below a shout. My eyebrows furrow, anger registers on my face in an instant. He's always been the cool and not-easily-pushed-to-anger twin while I've always been the incontinent and ill-tempered one. I always resort to yelling.

"What is there to not understand?! I know we were both reaped and we are both going into that arena together." His face is doubtful. "And I know only one of us...can come out alive." The weight of our situation finally hits me full force and I realize just how badly I want to come home, but not without my brother. I wouldn't be able to face my family.

"You were the one who said we needed to talk. Keep talking," he says, waving his fingers toward him. I shoot him a look just as the third course comes. By now, I've lost my appetite. The boy I saw earlier with the farmer's tan is obviously able to crush my skull with one of his giant hands. I didn't even think about the other tributes much besides what they look like. I only thought about Brim and I trying to kill each other, but odds are someone will kill him or me so we don't have to worry about it. Would either of us have the stomach or heart to actually take a life away from this world?

We pick at the third course, but not really eating much of it. Effie trots in, he hands curled up to her chest and her body turning with each step like a robot or something. Haymitch careens behind her, flask in hand. He looks like he's had a bath at least, his damp hair is ties in a short ponytail, but his face is still unshaven. "Who wants chocolate cake while we watch the other reapings?" Even after our discussion, Brim and I both agree to it at the same time. I could at least put on a few pounds and chocolate cake is all but unknown to us.


	4. Chapter 4

So far, I'm completely terrified of mine and Brim's competition. We start with District 1's reaping in which a masculine boy built like Erain except taller, and a short girl with hair like mine and a sneer that could freeze anyone in fear are reaped. The boy's name is Lawrence, said in a Capitol accent, and the girl name is Proline. Her name sounds sharp like the weaposn she's trained to kill with. District 2's tributes are even scarier and vicious looking than the last two; a boy who is already sporting facial scruff with eyes like knives, and a slender girl who gives everyone near her a death glare. The reaping go on and on, but I only look at my feet until I hear Effie's voice. I look up at the screen and there is District 12. Home.

"Chrissyna Hadley,"says the escort in a voice sounding the same as it did earlier at the reaping. The cameras zoom out and look on the crowd, waiting for a shot at the tribute. Me. Instantly, I can point out my face among the many relieved ones, all except for Lilian's which is struck with shock and fear. My face doesn't even look like my own; taught with shared fear from my sister, and I'm frozen in place. In the background, edited into the recorded program, piano music plays. It sounds sad. They've only started adding music since last year, it was upbeat music for the first districts but slowly started fading into slowness and sorrow. I see myself step out into the clearing, my hair blowing, and pure doom settled on my face. Somehow, I wish I could change it so that someone volunteers for me, but as we all know, that isn't possible. It takes about a minute for me to be standing next to a Effie as she crosses the stage to the boys' reaping bowl.

"Brim Hadley."

That's when I get up and leave the room. I rush to my room and slam the door behind me. Tears well up in my eyes and I don't stop them from falling down my cheeks. I pace the room, running my hands through my hair and sniffling uncontrollably. None of this is fair! None of it! I pull the drawers out of the dressers, anger surging through me, and fling them across the room. Me being very weak, they don't go too far but wrecking things that belong to the Capitol makes me feel powerful. It's like _"Take this,Capitol!" _and I rip a shirt or something. To me, it's a big deal, but to them it's nothing. After there are no more clothes to throw, I fall on my bed and crawl under the soft blankets. I cry my eyes out and eventually drift off into sleep.

"Up,up,up! It's going to be a big,big,big day!" Effie's voice squeaks, muffled through the wooden door. What? Morning already? Sure enough, the curtains leak pale light that takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to. No. No. I'm not here! I'm not on the tribute train! I'm supposed to be back home getting ready for school. I had hoped the reaping was all a dream, but it wasn't. Accepting that I am in fact awake by pinching my legs that are bare from me stripping down my clothes last night and crawling into bed without really remembering the first part. My eyes are sticky from crying. I walk into the tech bathroom groggily, stripping down my undergarments then stepping into the shower. Alright. How do I work this thing? I squint at the infinite amount of buttons. "This one looks promising,"I say aloud. I press one with a drop of blue water on it and sure enough, water pours through the shower head. It's cold though. I hop to the side and out of the stream of water, looking over the buttons swiftly. There are some with pink bubbles, purple bubble, blue bubbles, a drop of yellow water-ew?-, and many more that I can't identify. I run my palms over all the buttons, making them light up. Then it's like a rainbow in this shower. Soap of all different colors shoots out of holes in the walls either side of me like water going through a strainer. The water turns hot. I love it. The yellow water button is actually an oil that smells of flowers. How quaint.

After my shower that probably burned through my layer of compiled dirt and coal dust and possibly a layer of skin as well, I skitter into my room in search of clothes. Someone must have come and tidied up my room while I was in there because all the clothes are no longer in the floor, but folded back neatly in the dresser drawers. As much as I would have loved to defy the Capitol and leave them on the floor, I'm grateful. I toss on some undergarments and a strapless purple shirt that seems to be wrapped around my body like a ribbon and if it comes loose, the whole thing will unfold into a mess, and some grey loose pants. I bring some flat shoes along just in case I don't any time to run back and get them when we arrive to the Capitol.

Effie and a somewhat sober Haymitch waits for me in the main dining car. No sign of my brother yet. I think back to yesterday when he totally just played off our conversation about the games and about us both going into it. I hope he doesn't do anything stupid.

"Oh!" Effie squeals, jumping as the door slides open. Her voice can really grind my gears. Fast. It'll all be over soon. "You,"she points at me with her manicured index finger,"look like you could use something to drink." Of course, she's all dressed up in a brand new getup today; a curly lime green wig, plenty of blue eye makeup, lipstick, and that cheek powder stuff-blush? I think that's right-also, her white suit has been replaced with a yellow dress and yellow, fluffy feathers streaming off of it. Her heels _have _to be at least a little challenging to walk in!

She goes through a list of breakfast drinks, counting them off on her fingers,"Orange juice, coffee, apple juice, hot chocolate, tea-" I hold my hand up, stopping her. "Tea. That would be great. " She curls her fingers in disappointment that she couldn't show off the entire drink menu to me. It would be endless. She disappears through a door, probably to get my tea or something, leaving Haymitch and I. He looks at me with slit eyes like yesterday, but this time he looks at me with interest or disgust. His hair looks much better today since it's been washed.

"You. The odds could be in _your _favor, sweetheart." His face flashes with something I didn't quite get a good look of. It could have been anger, sorrow, or amusement. I lean my elbows against the table and set my chin in my hands.

"What makes you say that?"

Haymitch shrugs. "The 77th of these games could definitely be District 12's lucky year and you are the one who will fulfill that...prophecy of mine."

If I haven't mentioned this before, yes, I will be participating as a tribute in the 77th annual Hunger Games. Last year, the 76th, a boy I knew names Robbey Villert was killed nastily by a Career girl who tortured him first by cutting up his cheeks with knives while he was tied to a tree. She knocked him over the head then tied him up. When she was done having fun, or when she heard another tribute coming, she pulled out a sword and completely decapitated the poor boy. The District 12 girl, Priscilla Duhane, died from being bitten by a poisonous snake an eventually letting the venom poison her blood. I would have tried to suck the venom out before giving up. She was bitten on her forearm, so it wouldn't be all that hard.

"What on earth would make you say that I, a wimpy and inexperienced Seam girl, would have even the slightest chance of winning the games?" I really just want this conversation to be over. It's a drunk versus sober dialogue and those never work out. Then again, he might not be drunk. I don't smell any alcohol or spirits. What if he does believe in me? No. That's ridiculous. He's just yanking my chain.

"Because you've got,eh,"he searches his intoxicated and possibly decaying brain for the right word,"spunk. Like that Katniss girl. She was the female tribute for the 74th. Lotta spunk between you two." He leans back in his chair, folding his hands together behind his head and sticking out his elbows. "You remind me of her."

Me? Even if she died, Katniss Everdeen survived with her partner, Peeta Mellark, until there were only three tributes left. I was only twelve at the time of her games, the year I became eligible for the reaping so I had to watch as she volunteered for her little sister, Primrose Everdeen. Every time someone brings up Prim, I think they're talking about Brim since their names are so similar in sounds. The girl rarely ever leaves her home besides going to school to only gaze at the dusts reflecting like in front of the windows and to never speak to anyone. We're the same age now and I've tried to be friends with her, I have, but she only looks at me with saddened eyes that only seem to break my heart. She had to watch her sister be ripped apart by giant canine mutts while a District 2 jerk-face watched smugly, elevated by the cornucopia. Katniss's last words the were muffled by gurgling blood, mutts growling, and Peeta's screams of pain, but the amazing Capitol people made it audible for us to hear. "I'm sorry I lied, Prim..." Everyone could hear the sobs erupt from the Everdeen house at that moment. I try not to think about it too much.

"Hello? Anybody home?" Effie says, waving her hand in my face. I look up, snapping back to the rocking dining car and out of my memory flashback. "Tea!" the woman's voice says cheerfully as she brushes me by with the glass of iced heaven. I'll request gallons of this stuff in the arena from Haymitch if he manages to get me any sponsors. _Not _that it matters if I get sponsors or not. Brim is who matters when it comes to getting gifts. I gulp down the sugary liquid in an instant, making Effie grimace. I wait for a refill and think about what Haymitch said. He thinks I'm like Katniss? It's an honor for me to be told I'm like her. She was wicked with a bow and quiver of arrows, taking down the District 1 boy, the one who killed her ally from 11. Then, just as I'm about to thank him and tell him how much it means to me, he pulls out a flask and pours a dangerous amount of red liquid in his orange juice, turning it a sunset color. Thank him? What am I thinking? So as soon as a drunken guy says I'm like a girl who almost survived the games, but still didn't, and then I just go and want to _thank _him?! I'm going soft. This man is gonna get me killed by sending some kind of poisonous water or something. Another good thing about Katniss,real quick, is that she now taught me how to identify nightlock berries; the dark blueish berries that Peeta almost ate and the ones Foxface from 5 stole from him and they ended up being poisonous and killed her almost instantly.

Then Brim strides in casually, wearing a white undershirt and an almost too fancy blazer, gray pants, and shiny black shoes. His blonde hair is moved out of his face. He catches sight of me instantly and his jaw drops.

"You look clean! Wow!" A guy would normally compliment a girl by saying she looks nice today or that her hair is pretty, but not my brother, he will say something at the the minimum of the flattery scale. I look clean! Great! I stab a piece of scrambled egg and bite it off my fork viciously. He shrugs and proceeds in taking a chair closest to Haymitch. I took a chair opposite of the man.

"I was thinking about strategy in the games last night. What would you do if the arena was-"

"If you're gonna throw all this on me like this, please warn me. I'm not as coherent as I used to be,"Haymitch says coarsely.

The two progress in talking about what to do if you're being chased in different arenas like jungles, forests, snow, desert,etc. I try to listen, but seeing Brim dressed like this makes me think about why he isn't as worried as I am about going into the arena with a sibling. Did someone say something to him? I need to know. I'll get it out of him eventually, but for now I'll enjoy my biscuits drenched in gravy, eggs, and bacon. That didn't last long, of course. My meal is interrupted by Effie squealing like she usually does and running to the window. "We're here! Come see!" Brim stands up so quickly that he knocks his chair over. I stay where I am. Not showing any interest in the place is part of my act even around these people. I'm solid. Brim stands with his face pressed to the window as we swerve around the tracks, through tunnels, and around a large body of water. The Capitol is surrounded by mountains which makes it hard for anyone to rebel or declare violent war against it. If they wanted to attack, they'd have to go over the mountains or by train and that would be illogical. Geographic stuff.

I see the tops of large buildings and just those are enough to spark my curiosity enough to where it hurts. Keeping this up will be harder than I thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Two people's hands hold my shoulders down, not forcefully, but just enough to keep me from sitting up and running away. "It's okay, dear, we're almost done." The woman with blue hair and golden tattoos like vines over her eyebrows rips the strip off my legs, and probably taking another layer of skin with it. It's almost as bad as the shower back on the train. She does this a few more times before dusting her hands off and nodding at the other two who are restraining me. They let go and I just lay there. My whole body stings. The three Capitol mutants talk to each other in Capitol accents that are as unbearable as Effie's, their mouths hardly even open and it's like they could be talking with their brains or something. This process of getting me to look almost presentable has left me as exposed as a turkey in November. They've scrubbed me down with brittle foam stuff that smells like rotten eggs, they've scrubbed my hair until it feels as if it'll all fall out, filed my fingernails that were already pretty much bitten into stubs and made them shiny, and they removed all they hair from my body except for my eyebrows that aren't bushy anymore and my head of hair that's been trimmed so that it looks feathery. Looking in the mirror, putting aside my red glowing skin, I look good. Not great, but good. Venia, the blue haired woman,Flavius, a man with orange curled hair and purple lipstick, and Octavia, a rather plump woman with green skin, make me turn in circles with zero clothes on and I really just was to throw my arms around myself and hide away, but they definitely won't let me. They _ooh _and _aah _at their marvelous work and scan my body for any flaws that were missed. Thank God there aren't any.

"Lotion,"Flavius says. Venia and Octavia nod and begin to rub a citrus smelling lotion over my skin, making it sting them soothe the burning. It feels nice actually. They examine me once more. Occasionally, they whisper to each other and then nod in agreement. Knowing how solemn and tough Katniss was, I want to be like her now that I've thought about it. Only difference is that I'm not totally in love with a boy in the middle of a pitting against life and death. To be honest, I think she could have won against Clove if Peeta wasn't with her. Anyway, I don't want to open up so easily and not be entertained in the interviews but just enough to where people will be interested in my and my twin brother.

"You'll look dazzling in the parade. We know Cinna has big plans that could make even someone like you look good!" Venia pipes. Cinna is the stylist for District 12 and during the 74th, his first year, he set Katniss and Peeta's costumes on fire! I can't wait to meet him.

"Uh, thanks. He's somewhat of a fashion genius, right?" I keep the conversation going to make it less awkward with the two exotic birds dousing me in oily substance and the man with fierce hair watching me closely.

Octavia answers that one. "Yes,oh yes! You remember the past two years after his first debut, right? Of course nobody could forget the costumes. He works miracles in the cosmetic and fashion world."  
She makes him sound like the "God of Fashion" or something. Portia, Brim's stylist, is the other half of the genius designs, I think. Or it could just be the man himself.  
"Do you know if he's already got the costumes planned?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest in an attempt to cover myself. The women are done with the lotion and I snatch a robe off of a nearby table. Being naked in front of these people has made me feel so embarrassed; being malnourished all my life, my ribs bulge out even after gorging myself with Capitol food.

"He hasn't told us yet and probably won't until he reveals it to you," Octavia says, wiping her hands off on a towel them passing it to Venia. "Well, you're all finished for now. Cinna will be here shortly,though." I wonder if they'll let me eat some of those amazing cookies I had yesterday while I wait. Probably not.

"Thank you,"I say. They all nod and scurry out of the room and I swear they were walking like birds! My Capitol experience has been painful so far, but it's paid off and this place is beautiful. The curiosity spark grew into a fire rapidly and I _had _to sit up higher in my chair to look out at the place. The buildings are like tall sculptures made of colorful candy, the people are dressed in unique outfits that are puffy, silky, formfitting, and some are even close to nudity. It's so weird here, though. I sit on the table, my back facing the door. Brim seems to be enjoying the sights so far and that's what really matters. He matters, not me. I wonder what his prep team is doing to him? Probably scrubbing the mess out of his fingernails; they're so grimy and dust covered that it'll send a Capitol person over the edge. A citizen would probably try to fix his nails if they saw them.

The door slides open behind me, startling me. I turn my head to see a man dressed in a very handsome man dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants. He doesn't look like other disgusting people here, but almost normal. He only wears golden eyeliner when it comes to any kind of alteration in the human appearance.

His voice is like smooth honey. "Hello. I'm terribly sorry this happened to both you and your brother. Nobody should have to fight their own blood. My name is Cinna." Wow. He's the first one here to actually feel my pain about this situation. Anyway, he has no accent, thank God. He walks around the table examining me with great intensity. Cinna has the look of a great and talented stylist. I know what to expect from all these people the same: arrogance, the need to appear as young as a teenager, pitying the less fortunate or those who don't have the time to apply a whole bucket load of cosmetics after every meal. My stylist seems to be none of those and that's what surprises me the most.

"Chrissyna, but Chris works just as well and thank you, it's...very hard to deal with,"I say. He stays silent, still watching me and looking at my features. I can't resist the urge anymore to say this: "Did you get stuck with my district? I mean, did they just dump us off on you?" The corners of Cinna's mouth twitch upward into a brief smile. "No, I requested your district. The others just didn't appeal to me." He stops circling and stands in front of me. "Come with me."

He takes me to a room with three empty walls, one wall being entirely made of glass, with two red sofas and two tables with buttons on the faces. I sit next to Cinna on a sofa and he studies me for several seconds before reaching to the side and pressing one of the buttons. The face of the table slides open and I figured a sketch book of the man's designs would appear, but instead, a steaming plate of something bound to be good rises. Cinna hands me the plate and warns me that it's hot. (Obviously.) I cross my legs and balance the plate on them, waiting for it to cool. Everything in this place is so schmancy. Looking over the contents of the plate, I guess what it all is: beef, smothered in a caramel colored sauce-tasting a little, I realize it's peanut butter sauce-,tiny carrots, and circular crackers. We'd never get anything this nice back home if we were just "lounging around" like my stylist and I are now.

Thinking about how easy it is to get food here when you don't have to beg or work your body stiff, it leads me to wonder if life ever gets boring here in the stupendous Capitol that every single person,besides me, adores. If the lush life ever begins to bore, the people probably go in to get more surgery done or check the days until their new clothes arrive _or _complain to President Snow that they want their tributes now. They're like little toddlers wanting new toys every single day.

"I've been thinking about the tribute parade costumes for you along with Portia's help, but we've both decided recently that the costumes should be tailored to fit your personalities along with the tint of flavor from your district this year,"he tells me, using hand expressions.

"Personalities?" I say, blowing on a forkful of carrots then eating them. "If that's the case, then mine would be bleak and tasteless." Describing me is like describing a color or the taste of water.

"I don't believe that. Chrissyna, you are full of life and passion, but you have to knock down your walls and let me in. Okay?" He tucks my hair behind my ear to keep it from getting in the food.

"Okay." Being conflicted about acting like Katniss, strong-willed and not easy to crack, or being myself and showing Cinna and everyone else in this place who I am will make me a mess by the time we're ready to head into the arena.

Surely we won't be dressed in literally nothing but a few cloths to cover important areas or dressed in full-body armor because that would be really ridiculous. But then again, this is Cinna we're talking about.  
We begin to delve into thinking up ideas for my personalized costume that will probably be nothing like Brim's. Knowing how I am, I know that my fashion knowledge is listed at the very bottom of the "Chris's Useful Things List." I feel sorry for this man. The conversation goes a little like this:

"What are some activities you enjoy doing? Crafts? Sewing?"

"Carving things,"I say without further explanation. Leave it to me to let my non-feminine side show.

"What types of things?" he asks slowly, clearly wondering why on earth a fifteen year-old girl from District 12 would like to carve things into wood with knives.

I shrug. "I like carving bears into planks, birds, forests, flowers..." Cinna nods, listening but not looking at me.

"The vibe I am receiving from this is that you...you aren't very interested in something delicate. It takes lot of skill, concentration, and not to mention muscle to carve figures into wood,"he says pointedly.  
It amazes me that he can wring out any useful information from the idiotic ramblings of mine. "What do you think of the Capitol?" The question is so unexpected that I stop chewing the robust beef and stare out the window wall.

"In all honesty?" Cinna nods. I swallow hard. Slandering the Capitol isn't really encouraged, but I'm sure it's safe with Cinna. He seems to be defying the Capitol in a way by not conforming to their vain ways. He seems connected yet distant. "I hate it here." I'm sure most of everyone would expect him to defend the place and name every single reason in the book why this place is marvelous and is heaven compared to back home, but no, that isn't what he does. Cinna is calm and my four-word-long answer doesn't faze him at all. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees and he raises his intertwined hands to his mouth.

"I've got an idea, but I need more information about you." Great. More opening up, more spilling. "Do you have any other family in District 12?"

"My mom, dad, and my older sister." Thinking about them makes my heart hurt with yearning to be back with them. If only I could travel back in time.

B


	6. Chapter 6

I'm dressed in something my father—let alone, my mother—would never ever approve of. Cinna told me he had designed my costume and Portia had designed Brim's, but they'd never shown each other the work. After our little personality check session, Cinna had run off to go make final changes to my costume that "suit who I am" and stuff like that. I have to say,though, that it's breathtaking, my costume. It's leather is in two pieces; the top piece is strapless and cuts off in the middle of my ribs and the bottom is a set of very form-fitting black tights. Then Cinna walks in with a silky cape and that makes me feel much better. My hair has been done in thick curls that fall down to my midsection, a few inches higher than where my hair falls when its straight. My hair has also been dusted with glittering black powder. The makeup is unbelievable, I can tell, but Cinna won't let me look until he clips the cape onto the back of my top piece and the costume is complete.

"You look stunning, Chrissyna,"he says as he finishes his work. He spins me around so that I face him, but I'm too nervous to look up at him. He tilts my chin up with his index finger. "You are beautiful." Shaking, I nod. Then he walks across the room and turns a mirror around so that the reflective surface faces me. And I stare. The mirror is a long rectangle, almost taking up the entire wall, but all I see is me. A skinny, tallish, girl who looks almost like a Capitol citizen. My outfit is amazing; the top doesn't show off my visible ribs, the bottom starts a few inches under my bellybutton—which is pierced with a glowing orange and black stone probably made to look like embers—the cape, dark as night, brushes the ground like small soft fingers, and the knee-high boots are simply mesmerizing. I approach the mirror to get a better look at my face and come to realize that the girl I'm looking at isn't even me. My eyelids are covered in black, lacy patterns that draw out to my temples; my lips are a deep, rose red that stand out against my flawless skin. They've covered all the blemishes on my face and chest. I look beautiful, like Cinna said.

"You said this costume was supposed to match my personality and who I am, right?" He nods, looking tired but very pleased with himself in his mirror reflection. "But I feel so different." He stands to the side, behind me and looks at my eyes in my reflection and says,"That's because this is your passion, your traits, you all rolled into one. The leather is tough, like you, what is soon to come will show everyone that you are full of life." _It makes sense, but what if I'm not how you think I am? _I don't say that, of course, just because he's spent so much time on this and put his head into it. All for me. He looks down at his watch and says,"Better get you out there. They're waiting." He escorts me out of the room and down to the bottom level of the Remake Center. Nice name, it suits a place that completely changes who you are and traumatizes you so badly, you'll be having nightmares about hair wax.

We're greeted by my prep team, Portia, Effie, Brim's prep team, and my brother himself. He steps through the small cluster of giddy exotic birds as I like to call them and our jaw drop at the same exact time. He's suited up in a long sleeve, silk shirt that looks almost like something someone in District 4 would wear if it wasn't so black. The shirt shows almost all of his chest, his black pants have matching black almost cables snakes around them. His blonde hair is greased up to a peak above his forehead. Our eyes scan each other until they are practically sore.

"Mom and dad would be proud that you, or someone else for you, can clean up nicely,"I say. He makes a sound that could have been a snort of retortion or a laugh. "Thank you, I think. You look amazing. So different too." He squints at me, leaning this way and that to get side views of me. "Never knew you had so much hair, though." I shove him playfully and we walk toward the black horses that remain relatively calm due all the noise echoing off the stable walls. I sweep the room with my eyes to get a good look at out competition since I didn't pay much attention when we watched the reapings. I get an eyeful of a hulking boy from 8. Our eyes meet only for a second, his full of hate and the need to destroy everyone here and mine probably scared to pieces. I admire each of the horses, all dressed in costumes that reflect each district's specialty, too. Ours have coal and strips of fabric hanging from their black horse-tunics. I think it's be hilarious is they put a miner hat on them, you know, to give this horrid holiday a bit of light. Not that it'd make me enjoy being sent to my death. I stroke their long, strong necks, patting their trimmed manes. They're beautiful.

"Don't worry about the fire or smoke. It's part of the costumes,"says Cinna from behind. Smoke? Fire? This is like Katniss and Peeta's tribute parade costumes when they're lit on fire, but a kind of synthetic and harmless fire. It was very pleasant to stare at through the holographic screen at home. I try not to show the pinch of panic and fear that might have registered on my face. He fiddles with somethign on my cape and with something on Brim's shirt. I figured there'd be some kind of detonating device that blew us to smithereens in a colorful display of fireworks, but I only see the silky fabric. "It won't burn you,"he says, not looking at us but at our very different costumes unlike all the other tributes, who are dressed identical. We're hurried onto the open-backed chariot. Me being as clumsy as I am, its a gateway to sure humiliation if I stumble off.

The loud music begins to play and I can hear it clearly inside the stable, but it's surely louder beyond. The massive doors slide open and I can hear the chanting, the cheering, I occasionally hear my name in the sea of citizens. Cinna puts his head between us and says,"You both look endearing. Everyone will love you. Just keep your heads high and be yourself. Smile if you'd like, but I strongly recommend you do."  
I look back at him as he hops off the chariot and Portia says something in his ear, he nods and I'm pretty sure he says,"It'll work." What,the smoke and flames? Hopefully they will and I won't look like a complete moron with a smoldering cape and hair that will possibly catch on fire. District 1's faux painted horses begin trotting through the doorway and onto the beautifully paved streets, both the tributes waving and looking somewhat friendly. District 2 follows and so on. Then Brim and I are the only one left. we wait for 11 to get a certain distance away. I glance back at our entourage and see Effie hopping up and down and clapping her hands; Haymitch, who seemed to have come out of nowhere; and Cinna, giving me a reassuring nod. I half-smile and the chariot lurches forward and we enter the city.

My legs immediately feel like jelly and I grip the metal railing on the front of the chariot to steady myself. My cape catches a weak breeze and I start to smell the smoke. We're about two minutes into the ride and the flickering fills my ears, the smell is stronger. I look over at my brother, who is waving at the crowd and an ear-to-ear smile that I've never seen on him before. Then I realize I was frowning the entire time; I perk up and lift my hand in a slight wave, a small smile spreading across my lips. _You need to smile more, _is what Lilian would always tell me. I wonder what she'd look like wearing this and standing beside another boy from home, if she'd wave and smile, if she's look straight ahead and keep a straight face to look tough, or if she'd start crying because she's an emotional girl and this would overwhelm her.  
No, this is about me. Right now. I lift me hand over my head and wave, twisting my body to wave at people on Brim's side and to wave at people we've already passed. The roar of the crowd is deafening. I glance over at Brim and notice smoke lifting from his shirt, then orange light spreading as if it were fire eating away at his clothes. Its cold enough out here that I can see my breath faintly. I look at my cape and its doing the same thing, except it's burning to print to fabric into a certain shape. The crowd goes crazy. Flowers, money, even clothes goes flying our way. I'm doused in daises, roses, and wild flowers. The fall on the floor of our chariot.

Stealing another look at Brim, I see his shirt is completely gone, leaving him shirtless. He's toned a lot from helping in my mother's garden, chopping firewood, and just working out when he can. He definitely has a 6 pack. Not that I'm drooling over my brother because that would be even stranger than the Capitol citizens. He waves, he smiles, he charms the crowd. I just waves absentmindedly and look back at my fluttering cape which is now done smoking and burning. There are many holes burned into it and the shape is circular, only still attached to my top piece by three long stands of fabric. My leather clothes begin to glow like embers along with my bellybutton piercing. Upside down, I can't tell what the shape burned into my cape is, so I'll just have to wait and see it at the end. For now, all I need to do is try and win over the crowd. The ride is roughly about twenty to twenty-five minutes long. The obviously trained horses pull up, us being last to fill the gap of the horseshoe shape of chariots. The music fades and everyone's gazes land on the man above us on a balcony of his very own mansion. President Snow. His hair reminds me of actual snow that falls in the winter back home and then turns grayish, making me wish it'd just hurry up and melt away.

I look at the screen, I look at mine and Brim's fancied faces as the national anthem plays. The camera is supposed to scan over each of our face for less than ten seconds, but we remain on the screen for over twenty seconds before it moves on to the left of us to the 11 president welcomes us to the Capitol and thanks us for participating. I don't pay much attention. Instead, I look at each of the tributes. District 11's tributes don't seem so scary; a really tall girl with ginger hair and a boy who looks about fourteen look up at the balcony. My eyes lock on the boy from 8. His eyes lock on mine and we stay like that until the speech is over and the chariots start moving into the Training Center. I know what most of everyone is thinking about now if they saw me staring at 8 and him staring back, but their accusations will be incredibly wrong since I'm scared out of my wits and he seems satisfied with it. Something like a small voice tells me he'll be the one to kill me, or he'll try.

We're smashed with a wave of our entourage. Cinna clasps his hands together and I see he's ecstatic about our performance, if that's what it is called.

"That was incredible!" He pulls both of into a tight hug, careful to keeping his rings away from my cape and not nicking the fabric. Portia hugs us and I catch a whiff of her strong perfume, nearly choking on it.  
Haymitch approaches, looking quite smug and less drunk than usual. "Nice waving, sweetheart." Effie brings up the rear in her painful-looking heels. "They absolutely fell flat,"she smacks her hands together to give us the full effect,"for your costumes!"

"I nearly fell off!" Brim says excitedly. "What exactly happened to my shirt?" We laugh about it and Portia explains in Capitol accent.

"You were great out there,"I say when she's done and the adults are chattering. He shrugs his bare shoulders and hugs me. It feels great to be able to hug him genuinely and not just to comfort him when I myself and am falling apart. "Thanks,"he says into my hair. District 8 is still glaring at me.


	7. Chapter 7

After riding the elevator up to the twelfth floor according to Effie for the millionth time, we're dispersed to explore the floor that's all ours. Effie says its one of the only good perks to being our district's escort, getting the best floor with an amazing view of the city. I ask Brim to undo the clamps of the cape for me and he does and hands my the silky fabric. I take it to my room and hold it up to get a good look at the symbol burned into it. _Oh, Cinna. _It's the District 12 seal; two pickaxes facing away from each other, mine cart tracks in between them and a miner's hat above that. How did he do this? Burn the fabric precisely to keep this area untouched. I set the cape on my bed and step back out to explore the apartment and possibly get something to eat. Effie is talking up a storm with Haymitch and he seems to not be listening to anything from the plush couch, a brown bottle on the floor next to him. He probably celebrated our success in not freaking out and jumping off the chariot by getting drunk the moment we stepped into the apartment. Red headed servants stand in every room awaiting us to make a request. Avoxes, I think they're called. They've done something against the Capitol, presumably, and their punishment was to have their tongues chopped off. Never to speak again, living to serve. Their eyes glance at me, then they look away or look down.

The boy from 8's eyes appear every time I blink, and they burn a hole in my chest. A fire sparked with anger, fear, and just plain envy of his odds against pretty much everyone this year. When she sees me, Effie trots over, a big smile across her painted face and for a moment, I think she had surgery done to keep the smile in place, but then the smile loses its strength. "Chrissyna dear, you looked amazing. Simply fascinating." She pats me on the shoulder as if hugging me would be too complicated. "If you're hungry, I'm sure one of the Avoxes will attend to you. Eat something, shower, and get plenty of rest." Then she trots off to go boss someone else around, I guess. My stomach growls and demands something sweet. I approach an Avox girl and ask in the nicest voice I can muster since I feel bad for them somewhat,"Do you have any of the chocolate and raspberry filled cookies here?" She nods or bows and scurries off through a door which must be the kitchen or something. While I wait, I figure it won't hurt to have a quick look around.

Haymitch is passed out on the couch so I lean over and pick up the bottle, careful not to wake him or else I'd get a train load of drunk slurring and he'll probably try and hug me or something. I toss the half-empty bottle in the garbage bin; it lands with a _thump. _The living room is beautiful with a fireplace and screen projector on the center of the transparent wall that allows a view of the city, a dozen pillows on each sofa and chair, a long coffee table furnished with vases of flowers, and thick carpet that I bet is very soft between my newly cleaned toes. I walk into the next room: the dining room. A long table,rounded at the edges, is set out with wooden chairs surrounding it. Plates are set out along with utensils and glasses like we're about to have a meal, but its late and I think tonight's just a free-for-all where you order to food you want and wander around aimlessly until you get tired, I guess. How can I sleep after an exciting day? After I heard my name being chanted? After being given the million-over by 8's boy? It still bothers me. I wander back into the living room where a platter of the heavenly cookies awaits me on the coffee table. Half-jogging, I snatch up about three and stuff one in my mouth, almost devouring it in one bite. They're warm. Even better.

I'm still in my parade costume minus the cape. I've gotten used to the top piece being so revealing of my stomach and the tightness of the tights, but the bellybutton piercing is uncomfortable and my toes are squirming to get out of the boots. My feet are sore from standing on the chariot forever and walking around. I grab the platter of steamy delicacies and carry it to my room, feeling no ounce of greed. If anyone wants some, they can order them. These are mine. The cape with the District 12 seal still lies on my bed where I left it. The platter earns a place right next to it. I sit on the edge of the bed and untie my boots, my feet feel so much better when they're off. Time to wash all this makeup off. The bathroom is a lot bigger than the one on the train; a deep sink bowl, a private changing area, an entire closet of towels and bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and bath oils. The bathtub and shower are separate. I look at myself in the gigantic mirror one last time, memorizing the lacy patterns of my eye makeup and the red lipstick that still paints my lips. My hair is still in bouncy curls, the black dust glittering in the light. Too bad my prep team's masterpiece will be ruined. I turn on the bath and holes in the walls of the tub begin to pour steaming water until I think its the right temperature. Picking the best scent of bath oils is one of the hardest decisions of my life. Its all so foreign to me, though, so I go without any special chemicals and settle on a regular hot bath to soothe my aching joints. After I strip down out of my costume and set it in corner to keep it from getting wet, I slip into the tub and can't help but give a sigh of relief. Sure, the Capitol has shmancy bathrooms, food in the snap of a finger, and pretty amazing stylists, but they lack just one thing. Home. I spend almost the entire time the water was hot thinking about Lilian, my mother, and my father. Actually, I found a control panel and at a push of a button, water jets will shoot out and make the bath like a hot spring.

I won't really go into too much detail about me in a bathtub, there's not much to tell. I sat in, my mouth submerged and I blew bubbles and entertained myself for a few minutes before pulling out the washing material. It took a little while, but I scrubbed the flesh colored stuff off my body. The eye makeup and lipstick weren't all that hard to get off. But the black dust in my hair was a killer. By the time I had scrubbed it all out, the water was cloudy with powders and the discoloration of the alterations done to my appearance. Now I'm dressed in sleepwear and eating the still-warm cookies and walking into the hallway. I can see a slice of the living room from here and a blonde head sitting on the couch.

"Hey,"I say to Brim and plop down next to him. He has a mug of hot brown liquid and white cylinder things floating at the top; he holds a remote, studying it intently. I offer him a cookie, but he shakes his head. "What exactly are you doing?" I ask. The apartment is quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboard when an Avox shuffles around to clean something or fetch something for us.

"Trying to figure out how to work this thing!" he says, frustrated. I take it from him and look at the buttons for a moment then push a button that says power. The projector light up an empty marble area on the fireplace and a menu pops up. _Recorded Reapings. Tribute Parade. _Those are the only two options. I select the reapings for some reason and a list of snapshots from each reaping appears, district names underneath them. Brim is so focused on his mug of liquid that he doesn't notice me select District 8's reaping without so much as giving the others a second look.

It starts with 8's escort dressed in a silly tiger-themed outfit onstage and she goes through the motions of introducing the mayor who does the same as Mayor Undersea back home. Then the escort takes the stage again. She sticks out like a sore thumb against the rest of the plainly attired people.

"Ladies first!" she squeaks like a chipmunk, even more annoying than Effie. She crosses the wooden instead of stone stage and digs in the bowl of slips. From the camera angle, I can see out into the crowd and out into District 8. The town square is a lot bigger than 12's and probably two times the children stand in it biting their nails, praying, maybe even crying. The escort stands in front of the mic and reads the name: "Deanne Olkwire." Somewhere in the crowd, there's a cry of "No! No! She can't go!" It was a boy. He runs out into the open toward a girl who I only just noticed. He wraps his arms around her, being a lot taller than her. A few Peacekeepers restrain him so the girl, now crying, can take the stage.

I look around at the Avoxes. One of them has their eyes toward the screen discreetly. I munch on another cookie while the escort draws the boy's name; this is what I wanted to see. "Laurel Billet." She looks up from the paper, waiting for the boy called to make his way up. That's when I see him. Sliding past people near the back of the square. His face shows absolutely no hint of being surprised or scared unlike the girl. Being from a district that specializes in textile, the children don't wear really nice clothes but clothes that almost resemble 12's. Then the projector shuts off and Brim looks over at me, eyebrows raised.

I hadn't realized I was on the edge of the couch cushion, getting as close to the screen without leaving the luxury. "We should get to bed,"he says. I don't object.


	8. Chapter 8

I awake to the smell of food wafting into my room, dancing on the tip of my nose dreamily. My mother is cooking something that smells nice? She's a terrible cook and my father isn't any better. Maybe its Lilian. Yeah. Better get up and see if she needs any help. But my legs ache and my skin stings. Why? Then I open my eyes to see the curvy lamp on a bedside table and morning light peeking through the curtains. I'm not at home, but in the Capitol. A dreadful realization takes place over me and now I do _not _want to get up at all. They can postpone the Games because I am never moving from this bed.

Effie thinks otherwise. I hear a rapid tapping at my door and the sound of impatient clacks of her high heels on the floor. "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" she says. I've thought about this a lot recently, but does that woman ever sleep? Are her escort duties the only important thing in her fancy up life? She is a wonder of nature, she is. "Chrissyna? You go down to train in an hour! Are you up yet?" I throw a pillow at the door. It hits the lamp on a dresser beside the door and the thing crashes on the floor. Effie shrieks behind the wood. "I'm up!" I yell in a raspy voice. My breath tastes like morning.

I try to swing my legs over the bedside, but instead get tangled up and hit the floor. How will I ever survive the Games for more than five minutes? So I crawl, yes crawl, into the bathroom and use the sink counter to hoist myself up. In the mirror, I see tangled, blonde hair and a pair of eyes somewhere in the jungle. I turn on cold water in the shower after figuring out which button is which then stick my head under the stream. It lessens the frizz in my hair and also gives me a boost of consciousness. Now I'm awake.

After spending at least ten minutes brushing my hair until its sleek and a tad bit damp, I walk back into the bedroom. It seems as though an Avox was here while I was in the bathroom because an outfit waits for me at the closet. White leggings, a black long sleeve shirt, and brown leather ankle boots. It's comfortable, I'll say that. I pull my hair into a no-effort ponytail and walk out. The living room is still the same except for the windows are bright instead of dark. Effie beckons me from the dining room when she sees me through the doorway. "Come eat something!" So she's my mother now? No, my mother is back home probably waiting for me to help Brim win these retched Games so she can have her son back. It still irks me that she didn't even say goodbye to me. Both my parents didn't care enough about me. They'll be wishing they had when I'm sent back home in a wooden box.

I wish I was going to school right now with Berain, Erain, Lilian, and Brim. Just our normal lives in the midst of starvation and death, I wish I could have heard just one more of Erain's jokes about birds. But what he said to me before I got on that train. He wants me to come back. But why doesn't he just understand I can't do that, I have to make sure my brother is the one to go home then go to parties then onto the Victory Tour then live in the Victor's Village because he deserves better than this. And not coming home is the only way I can be sure he receives the things in life he _does _deserve. Even if I have to kill 22 other people.

A board to the side of the table is lined with over a dozen dishes. I just grab the nearest one, load it down with food I didn't quite examine, then sit across from Effie, us being the only two there. The plate is overflowing sloppily with sweet oatmeal, biscuits, orange slices, some kind of egg salad, and about four slices of toast. I look out the window at the beautiful buildings, most probably stocked with beauty products in case someone is running low. I wonder what Capitol people do during the daytime. Do they have jobs? What do their children learn about in school? Yes, I actually think about the lives of these vain people to take my mind off of the incoming days of torture. What will the arena be like? Hopefully one like Katniss' because I've seen how she survives in a forest environment. It would at least increase my chances of getting Brim home if I knew how to survive like she does. The only way Clove won those Games is because of the mutts, that's all. She's mentoring this year. I saw her with the District 2 tributes.

Brim walks in looking as tired as I am followed by a sobered up Haymitch. A flask still bulges from his mismatch buttoned shirt. Probably for later. They murmur good mornings, get their plates of food and take seats on either side of me. Brim munches on bacon while Haymitch speaks through a mouthful of stew.

"So you've got training today. Want me to coach you two separately or together?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Separately? Why would you do that?"

"Do you have a skill your brother here doesn't know about?"

I shake my head. Carving isn't really a skill I'd hide from Brim. I'm not entirely sure it counts as a skill at all.

"Separate training is for tributes who are really sought out to kill each other and if one has a special skill they don't want the other to know about, they're trained by themselves. So what'll it be, blondies?"

Brim shrugs and gives me a look that says, _I don't really care. _Does my brother have any skills I should know about? I mean, he's strong but not as strong as the boy from 8. I want to learn how to shoot a bow like Katniss or how to at least throw a spear properly. If I'm to protect Brim. But Katniss has known how to shoot since she was younger, Prim told me when she rarely ever spoke to me. Almost everyone in District 12 knew she and Gale Hawthorne hunted outside the fence. Nobody could really stop them expect for Peacekeepers and they weren't really ever around.

I shrug and say, "Together, I guess."

Once we've stepped off the elevator, the smell of rubber and metal fills my nose. My brother, I notice, is dressed in loose fit pants and a grey tunic. Somebody pins a square of cloth with the number _12 _stitched in the fabric on our backs. We're the second to last people to arrive; District 7 just stepped off the elevator. Brim and I stand on the outside of a close knit circle where a dark skinned woman is on an elevated platform. She explains to us that we can choose whichever station we want, survival or combat, but to follow our mentor's instructions. We may _not _engage in combative exercise with any fellow tributes. Good. I wasn't planning on fighting with the huge boy from 11 anyway. I feel so small compared to everyone else, even the short girls and boys. I'm thin as a rail and barely even strong. They'll tear me to pieces.

Everybody looks different without their snazzy parade costumes— they'd look like normal teenagers if it weren't for the fear or bloodlust in their eyes. Atala, the dark skinned woman, finishes and I didn't even pay attention mostly. Sounds a lot like school during coal class. Which is pretty much every class. Still, it'd beat being here. I glance around at the dismissed tributes, 8 boy catches my eye. He's not following the girl from his district to the poisonous plant station, but just standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest. What's he waiting for?

"I'd just head over to the, uh, weight lifting thing station. Okay?" Brim says when I didn't suggest a station we do together.

"Yeah. Okay," I say with a dismissal wave of my hand. He walks off. Well, 8 can do whatever he wants because I'm here to train. Which station, though? The boy and girl from 5 are already at the fire making station, the boy from 4 has already started weaving a net at the knot-tying station. And anyone could guess the Career tributes would head straight for the weapons. The only station left unoccupied is camouflage. Sounds fun. I head over to the table supplied with different paints, brushes, and books showing how to create designs to blend in. There are countless tree bark designs, but they seem bland so I go with a bush of blooming purple flowers. What's the point of this if I won't use it? Are they going to supply an entire art kit in the arena? I don't think so. But until some other station clears up, this is a type of training activity. I feel as if I'd be intruding on the Careers' playing field by attempting at learning how to use a weapon. Its as if I should leave the fighting to them, but at the same time, I want to know how to defend myself.

After thirty minutes of trial and error, I manage to paint a decent purple flower including details and the green leaf background on my arm. My hands shake badly. "Looks nice," a voice says as it approaches the table. I look up and see the 8 boy towering over me, his eyes glued to my painted arm. My heart sinks. If he's here to tease me about my taste in survival, he can go right ahead. I return my attention back to painting another flower. He's still standing there dressed in a black short sleeve shirt and black tight pants. Okay, leave already. But no, he grabs a design book and starts flipping through it.

"I'm Laurel," he says. As if I really care what your name is!

I glance back over at the square picture of flowers to be sure I'm doing it correctly, and without looking up at him a second time. "Chrissyna," I say. Now that we've both been properly introduced, you can go meet some other people. He's scary huge! This guy could snap my neck with his pinky fingers.

He sighs, sets the book down turned to a page where rock camouflage is listed, then grabs paint and a brush. Oh, so he's here for an extended stay? Great.  
"I'm sorry both you and your brother were reaped. The only thing close to this is when Cashmere and Gloss were reaped consecutively. And that-"

"Thanks for your sympathy," I say to shorten the pity party speech. "But we're fine." I start painting the pink streaks coming from the inside of the flower. Someone across the room is throwing knives, I can tell.

He starts painting his arm gray with black and brown speckles. I sneak looks every now and again and every time it looks more and more like a rock. It's amazing, really. But I'm not about to befriend the guy just because he can paint well. Maybe I should go check the other stations to see if any opened up. Yeah. I'll do that. I wipe off the paint with a cloth and cleaner and start walking toward a station, any station to get away from Laurel. Ha! I'm even using his name. It's better than 8 boy.

The Gamemakers seem to be enjoying themselves in their spectating stands, lavishly drinking away and ordering Avoxes. But a few actually watch us. They point at the District 1 girl, whisper something, then nod or laugh. She's excelling in hand-to-hand combat. Whereas me, I'm standing in the center of the room looking clueless. Then I see the District 3 boy leave the archery station and I go for it. Good, a useful skill. The trainer immediately hands me the bow and tells me how to use it. I need to keep my feet spread apart and he told me not to lock my elbows. In truth, it is all very confusing.

"You pull the string back like this." He demonstrates on his own bow. I mimic his movements, occasionally glancing around. Laurel is still at the camouflage station wound up in his rock stuff. "Make sure you have a tight hold on the grip when releasing." The trainer let the string go and it shook for a moment. I did the same and the string pushing forward causes me to drop the bow. The metal is warm from being used frequently.

Then I decide one thing. Training will not be easy.


End file.
